The Boy, a Girl
by Slow to Dream
Summary: "Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl." Allen Walker is often thought of as a little feminine by his comrades of the Order. But after swallowing a mysterious concoction secretly formulated by the eccentric Komui Lee, nobody is able to say anything anymore. Because he's beyond a little feminine...he's transformed into a girl! Fem!Allen x Lenalee.
1. New Perspective

**Title: **The Boy, a Girl

**Author: **Slow to Dream

**Fandom: **DGM, D Gray Man

**Rating: MA** for adult themes, lesbian action, girls in heat, and saying 'no' means 'yes'...no serious rape, folks. Just a little ravishment.

**Pairings: **Allena, but anything's up for grabs.

**Disclaimer: **I have no ownership of Katsura Hoshino's manga/anime series D Gray Man. I do not own any characters that belong in her works. I do not own, by any circumstances, any music or have any affiliation to bands or their songs that I downright took/stole titles from. **It's rated MA for a reason. If you can't stomach sexual themes, please discontinue reading any further. Thank you. **

**A/N: **I always thought Allen had a smidge of gay in him. Not that that's a bad thing—but then I thought: "What if he was a girl?", so I made this. Please enjoy, and if lesbians rub you the wrong way, I'm sorry. But I can't cure blindness. I'm going to switch up the tense in this story to present-tense. Sorry if I mess it up. I don't own **P!ATD** or _It_ by _Stephen King_...big inspiration for the trippy part.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**New Perspective**

"_**Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl."**_** – Julie Anne Peters**

* * *

**Allen Walker**

He can't help but think that this was all the cat's fault.

Deep into the hunt for the feline that had made off with his golem, Timcanpy, Allen suddenly decides that this might not have been the best decisive action to get the little golden golem back. Who the _hell_ even brought that thing in? One moment he was training outside in the morning, then the next he finds himself chasing the cat that had snatched away Timcanpy from seemingly out of nowhere.

Allen groans exasperatedly and sits down on the cold marble, slumping his back against the wall.

Feeling the shock of the cold wall against skin, Allen notices that he is—for a lack of better term—_so fucking lost_. He has no clue where he is right now. Looking around in defeat for a moment, Allen catches the sound of the mewling down the hall he is trapped in. The sound reverberates off the wide arches in the ceilings and the flawless marble walls and floor.

Strike!

With a second wind behind him, Allen vigorously runs down the hall to where he had heard the meddlesome cat. When he catches that thing, Allen swears he'll find the nearest orphanage and do away with the evil thing before it can try to eat any other golems.

Finally reaching the end of the hallway, Allen notices it's a dead end, with one very strange exception. Massive steel chamber doors stand ominously in his way, the gap between the two doors just ajar. A cold, sinister wind comes swirling through the slim gap and Allen shudders.

"The Science Division Experimentation Lab?" he reads aloud from the sign, "Warning: Dangerous."

Allen sucks his teeth as he contemplates this. Was chasing the cat worth entering the creepy Wonderland of Hell that was the Experimentation Lab? He had heard certain…stories about the place. Allen loves some of the Science Division members, but they were a little eccentric with their field of work, maybe even a little outlandish. All sorts of unethical and insane experiments probably occurred in there, and Allen didn't feel like figuring out what was going on in there.

Another faint, ringing mew reaches his ears and he narrows in eyes. If a stupid, fat cat can just go prancing in there with Timcanpy in his belly, then damn it, he can, too. Abandoning the small voice in his head telling him not to enter, Allen walks closer, grasping the handles of the massive set of doors and opening them wide. The dreadful creaking of iron doors disrupts the silence and Allen takes a deep breath before entering.

As he enters the lab, Allen is pleasantly surprised at the atmosphere and condition of the massive room. To his left are long rows of bookcases chock full of colorful, thick novels, spines in good condition and printed with bold, vibrant lettering. The delicious aroma of morning coffee wafts lazily into the air as the relaxing heat of the room soak into Allen's skin, soothing tense and aching muscle tissue from this morning's training. Personal lab kits sit together on the long rows of steel tables, bubbling and frothing cheerfully with foreign liquids in their tubes and flasks.

Allen stretches and takes a seat on one of the many vacant chairs in the room. Yawning, he rubs his eyes and feels himself loosen up. Allen doesn't think this place is so bad; he kind of likes it, actually. He doesn't see what the whispered rumors and caution was about this place. Looking around once again, Allen decides to get up and take a closer look.

He inspects personal lab kits, noting the different colors and smells each possessed. Each had a different smell: lemon, freshly-cut grass, burgers and fries, a campfire, clean laundry. One smell in particular was especially enticing. It was a delicate perfume, a swirl of kiwi, strawberry, and pineapple. Not to mention coconut.

There was only one scent that matches what Allen smells, and it was Lenalee's. The source of the fragrant perfume is in a form of a tiny glass bottle, the light from the ceiling reflecting off the crystal surface. An aged brown cork was firmly crammed into the neck of the bottle. Allen finds it odd that the scent reminds him of the Chinese exorcist, but he puts the thought off his mind.

Allen lifts the bottle and places it directly in front of a light, marveling at the beautiful glow of the liquid. Sniffing the perfume from the air, Allen blinks lethargically. He figures the sudden exhaustion is from training at such an early time in the morning and reads the tag around the bottle sluggishly. It's a small sign tied to a small-scale rope around the neck of the bottle. It reads: DRINK ME.

The scent of the potion clogs his nose with its sinful bouquet. Allen figures that it was for the scientists in this lab. Probably an energy drink that they had perfected for all-nighters; why else had they put a sign around it that begged to be drunk? The bottle releases with a loud 'pop' as Allen tugs off the cork.

His mouth began to water and there is an unmistakable tingling on his tongue. Allen has just noticed how parched his throat was. Maybe he should just take a sip. He didn't want to drink the bottle, he just wants to…taste it. An indescribable urge to drink overcomes his senses and Allen tilts the crystal bottle back, downing the drink.

Allen tastes a hint of raspberry and cherry before the world _spins. _

A blitz of colorful lights attacks his vision and his head feels as if it was dunked into the ocean. He brings his hands to his face, but everything feels as if there is a three second delay. Allen notes with a calm panic that his hands are _squiggling. _Hell, everything felt as if it was warping out of shape at this point.

"Oh no…" Allen mutters to himself, stumbling across the room and managing to knock down everything within a two-foot radius.

A pretty poison purple infects the hue of his vision and Allen _swears_ he can hear his eyes move. Trippy.

A fire blossoms in his chest and scorches his lungs. His pants come out in rough, raspy gasps for air as he slowly wills his feet to move to the entrance. He collapses onto the floor, the fire now spreading everywhere across his body. Sweat clings to his clothes as his bangs are wet from perspiration.

He has to get out of here. Anywhere, just not here. Is he going to die? Will he ever get to order that mega-ultra-super-sized mitarashi dango Jerry promised? Why is he sexually aroused?

"_Owgeezus_," he gasps and holds his trembling body, every nerve on fire as his skin is peppered with goosebumps, "_Gawddammitshitshit_!"

Allen never cursed with that much freedom before. Then Allen realizes, pain can make people do some things. Why did pain also make Allen want to touch himself?

He can feel his tongue swelling like a balloon, his skin radiating heat like a furnace. Clawing his way past the doorframe, Allen grits his teeth as every move of his body ignites pain. Blacking out a couple of times, Allen finds himself in in different spots of the hallway at different times. One blink, and he was fifty yards ahead, then another, and he was suddenly back twenty.

Allen felt himself blink some more when he sees Mana standing by the exit of the hallway, in his ridiculous clown costume and balancing on a tacky decorated ball, beckoning to Allen enthusiastically. Balloons and flying fish floated hazily around the air, one swimming right in front of Allen's face before darting away to a mess of balloons.

Grey eyes blink once. Then twice. Trout and balloons still there with Mana waving enthusiastically. Allen decides to blink again.

"Mana?" his voice, Jesus Christ, sounds raspy and juvenile. No, it really _was_ juvenile. Looking down at himself, Allen realizes he is back when his hair was a chestnut reddish-brown and he had no scar on his eye. Just what the hell is going on?

"C'mon, Allen! Catch up! There are balloons here!" his foster-father chuckled that fake clown laugh, the one that creeps Allen out, "All sorts of colors here, Allen! So many colors!"

The trout began to fade away and the balloons clusters in his vision, leaving their colors the only thing he could see. In tiny gaps between the colorful floating orbs, he can see Mana leaving the hallway on a unicycle, waving his arm in farewell.

"Wait…" Allen croaks, reaching out to the colors and his retreating father.

"They float, Allen, they float!" Allen finds himself kneeling in front of a snow-covered grave, Mana's voice a faint echo ringing into the sad silence and the gray and snowing sky. It was where he had firs met Cross. Scattered tombstones reminds Allen of gnashing teeth, the snow and gray sky drowning all noise in silence. Twisted trees and tendril roots are cracking through the snow.

Allen shivers from the snow on the ground and in his hair. He feels an innumerable sadness as he stares at one particular headstone, but he can't figure why. Engraved was MANA WALKER: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

"And when you're down here with me…" the ringing in the snow and ash sky becomes a rough whisper, right into Allen's ear, "_You float, too!_"

Allen turns and he is swallowed by the first Akuma he had killed, his own father, and knows nothing but empty darkness.

* * *

**Lenalee Lee**

A low, pitiful moan faintly whispers itself into her ears.

She is making her regular coffee-delivering route when she hears it. Gently placing her tray of liquid caffeine onto the nearest table, she makes her way for the Science Department's forbidden hallway, to check what the noise is about.

She felt a cold chill run down her spine, but cheerfully forces it to retreat. It isn't like some sort of test subject is wandering the halls, is it? Looking around quickly, Lenalee steps into the forbidden hallways unseen and unheard. The Experimentation Lab was off-limits to anyone outside the Science Division, after all.

Gingerly shifting her weight to the balls of her feet, she looks around curiously, wondering where the sound had come from. Walking around a bit more, she turns a corner nonchalantly before nearly tripping over something on the floor. She looks down, slightly annoyed, ready to clean up the body on the floor. Does the Science Department not clean up after themselves?

Wait…A body. _A body!?_

Lenalee bites back a squawk before kneeling down to help. She sees beautiful snow-white hair and immediately assumes its Allens. He is out cold on the floor, moaning softly. Lenalee notes his voice sounds a lot more…_feminine_ today. Maybe he's hurt?

"Allen, get up…" she gingerly turns the boy over, "The floor is cold and hard—"

She gasps and her mouth unhinges open. She can't believe what she's seeing. She thinks it's a mistake—it has to be. There was no way this was possible.

His long, sweeping eyelashes were luscious as they fluttered lightly. Light, flawless skin seems softer somehow as the sunlight from windows catches the sweat glistening on his skin. The labored, deep male pants that should have come out his mouth are sweet, silky mewls. His face is so perfect it hurts; straight nose and full lips devoid of flaw. And then Lenalee looks down at Allen's chest and, finally and without hesitation, knows that something is completely wrong.

Allen has _breasts_.

* * *

**A/N: **Yep. That just happened. Well, review if you have any constructive criticism, compliments, complaints, or requests for anything. I'm all yours.


	2. This Ain't No Jersey Shore

**A/N:** So I need writing tips because I write like a retarded donkey. I don't own anything made by Lupe Fiasco.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**This Ain't No Jersey Shore**

"_**It's a curious, wanting thing." **_**– Sarah Waters**

* * *

**Lenalee Lee**

Looking at the sweaty, mumbling, girl fading in and out of consciousness, Lenalee notes she is the most beautiful girl she had ever seen in her life. Gorgeous locks of snow is splayed across her face as she tosses her head in her fever dream, strands of hair sticking to her sweat-soaked satin skin and shielding parts of her face. It gives her an absolutely _wild_ look that Lenalee can't shake off. Who is this perfect angel?

Lenalee stoops down and cradles the girl in her arms. She blinks owlishly in surprise at how easy it was to pick her up. She is so frail in her arms, Lenalee is scared to break her. Willing her Dark Boots to materialize, she takes off in the air before the crystalline Innocence can fully form. As hallways and doors zipped past her, she hears a soft moan. It was sensual and heated, scorching Lenalee's cheeks. Allen—if it was Allen—had a soft, high-pitched voice. It reminded Lenalee of a fairy, or maybe a sprite. She was cute enough to fit the role, too. Lenalee chimes out a soft chuckle.

"So hot…everything is so hot…"

Everything stops when she feels two tiny soft hands wandering her body. It takes a moment for Lenalee's brain to register that she is being fondled. With a startled squawk, Lenalee almost drops the girl. Oh no. Lenalee speeds up, hallways and doors becoming blurs. The offending hands continued their pillaging, searching her body. Those hands are so hot, Lenalee is having trouble concentrating. She's got to get into Allen's room in time before the girl ends up undressing her.

"Allen, stop that." Lenalee gains speed, panic snapping at her heels.

"Who's Allen? I'm Allen?" the girl stupidly points her finger at herself, "I am the God of Tits and Wiiinnnee~..."

So General Cross definitely did something to him as a child.

As soon as the thought crosses her mind, she feels a button on her jacket magically undo itself. She had to jinx it earlier. It's surprising that she hadn't managed to kill herself yet, fumbling with the beautiful girl and her hot hands in the air.

Lenalee swoops down to the marble floor and runs into his room, juggling the girl in her arms while wrestling with the door. Why does everything have to be so hard today? Ignoring those scandalous hands, Lenalee quickly tosses the fairy girl onto her bed and is rewarded with a soft moan from her fairy lips. Lenalee huffs with frustration. Damn it, that's not supposed to be suggestive. She needs to find out what exactly happened to Allen, the gorgeous boy who is now a gorgeous girl.

"I see…colors…" the girl bites her lower lip, writhing around on her bed, "Everything is so soft and beautiful and awake…"

Was the girl under the influence? What's going on here?

"That's great," Lenalee chimes back, frustration edging dangerously close to her voice, "Just lie there…"

Lenalee turns to the door to escape to the kitchen—to fetch some water for the girl, of course.

"Lenalee…where are you going…? Don't leave me alone with these trout…" the girl whines and begins to tear up. She's waving at the air, shooing away imaginary air-borne fish. Her bottom lip trembles and she looks ready to cry. And look absolutely beautiful doing it.

"Allen-kun, you need to focus." Lenalee sits on the bed with her knees, forcing the girl up and grabbing her shoulders. Allen immediately sobers up. "What happened?"

Beautiful silver eyes, flashing like steel, widens in confusion. She blinks a couple of times, as if she's seeing Lenalee for the first time.

"Did it hurt?" Oh God, she knew where this was going to go. The girl repeats the pick-up line, tilting her head with a muddled stare, trying to look cute. It totally works. "Did it hurt?"

Lenalee decides to preemptively answer the pick-up line. "Yes, Allen-kun, it hurt when I fell from heaven—"

"When you burst through the walls of Hell?"

Well, damn.

* * *

"So you're saying he just started splitting up laughing after that? And passed out?" Lavi looks over his eggs and sausage. She can tell he doesn't believe a word she's saying.

Lenalee sighs and takes a bite of her pancakes. "Allen-kun must've been tired to be so loopy…" She notices the "really?" looks from Lavi and Kanda and decides to reiterate, "…or maybe high."

Lavi points with his fork. "There ya go." He twirls it in the air in thought, "But I thought the Moyashi was straight-edge."

"As long as the Moyashi stays out of my way, I don't care." Kanda continues eating his soba.

Kanda is eating soba.

Kanda is eating soba for breakfast.

_For_ _breakfast_.

Lenalee attempts to not grind her teeth in frustration. Everyone here is so crazy. Crazy, crazy, crazy. There's the man turned woman molesting her, a crazy sonuvabitch idiot-savant with a pirate eyepatch, a samurai who eats _soba_ _for_ _fucking_ _breakfast_. And a batshit crazy girl who gripes about breakfast meal-choice etiquette.

But, alas. She puts on a mask of pure joy and peppiness that was her crushed soul.

Turning to her pancakes, she mumbles into a bite. "But it doesn't explain how he's a girl."

Silence. The non-believers continue with their breakfasts. Lenalee waits patiently for someone to say something.

"Okay, I'll bite," Lavi says with a mouthful of food, effectively ruining the silence and her appetite, "What d'ya mean?"

Lenalee's brow shoots up. Dang it, she forgot to tell them. How was that possible? "Well…exactly what I meant. I found Allen in the Experimentation Hall as a girl."

* * *

**Allen Walker **

The world is tilted and purple and he can hear a butterfly's wings beat. The vast expansion of the universe is in his palms and he was the God of Tits and Wine. A foggy idea comes into his head that this should not be happening, but Allen giggles the thought away. The room's scent is a perfume of smoke and delicious fruit. They shouldn't be mixing, but there they are, making out like horny teens in the front of Allen's brain.

"Kid! Hey kid!"

Allen looks up from the soft marshmallow he was laying in. "Who's there?" His voice sounded like a slow warble underwater.

"It's me! Down here!" Allen looks down now, confused and curious, "Hey!"

"You…" Allen points his finger at the miniature figure on the floor, "Who are you?"

"I'm the Ghost of Christmas past!" the little man says speedily from the floor. He was a nervous old man, with a hooked nose gloriously red with pink cheeks. Bathrobes hung off him like glorious robes of silk. But they were just bathrobes. A bedcap too large for his head hung off his head, just barely on.

"Those bathrobes…" Allen squints in thought, "How…?"

"Smashing, ain't they?" the old man sneers as he brings his arms out the side of him, inspecting his clothes, "Peruvian silk and ivory."

"How is ivory in your—"

"Never mind that!" the Ghost of Christmas Past said quickly, "Listen, I need you to burn this room down. In fact, the entire hall."

"Why?" Allen blinks stupidly at the little man on the floor. "That's bad."

"Listen, kid. Sometimes ya do what's necessary for the greater good. And if that means burning down you and ya friends' rooms, ya do it. Capisce?"

Allen nods slowly.

"Great, kid. Now there's a candle on the dresser to your left." Allen gets up and grabs the lit candle, "Good, good! Now see them curtains over there?"

Allen walks over to the curtains. His legs feel like jelly and the floors are pudding. He goes on undaunted. For the greater good.

"Great, great! Good job kid! Now burn 'em!"

Allen tips the candle over the black fabric of the curtains. They catch instantly, flames rippling beautifully. The flames lick the windows and cast a glow in the room. The flames were so beautiful, they're making Allen want to cry. The way they flicker and dance, they feel like life.

He repeats it to the little man.

"That's nice, kiddo. Now, get the fuck outta here."

Allen obeys the tiny little man-elf and meanders to the door. The smell of fruit is gone and the perfume of smoke starts to choke him. As he's out the door, he hears the faint voice of the Ghost of Christmas Past one last time.

"See ya later, kid. It was nice working with ya. Just remember me, yeah?"

* * *

**Lenalee Lee**

Kanda lets a 'che' escape his lips. Lavi giggles past the eggs in his mouth and shakes his head.

"You can't be serious." Lavi rolls his eye, yes, his solitary eye.

"I'm telling the truth. Kanda?" Lenalee looked to the dark-haired samurai hopefully.

"I don't give a shit." Kanda continues with his blasphemous breakfast choice.

Why did she even put her faith in him? Damn it. As Lenalee is about to retort, she smells something that catches her attention. She sniffs the air delicately.

"Smell that?" Lenalee looks to Lavi and Kanda, "It smells like something's burning."

"Well, Jerry's never messed up before…" Lavi mutters.

And suddenly, it was as if the floodgates has been opened. Masses of bodies comes tumbling out, screaming Finders and panicked Exorcists, running towards the opposite direction of the burning smell. Which came from the Residence Hall. Wait…why—

Lenalee lets out a string of unladylike, colorful words and swiftly gets up to run to where she had left Allen. On the bed almost passed out. Unable to fend for himself…herself?

As she enters the hall, the smoke had brought tears from her eyes. Lenalee can smell the acid smog of the flames and feel the heat licking at her skin. As tears ran down her face, she wondered if they were really from the smoke. Wandering the halls of flame, the heat wavers her view and the world smells of thick ash. Suddenly, the peaceful world of breakfast is thrust into Hell.

No. Can she have really lost Allen? Is this her fault? As the fire roars in her ear and the smoke fills her lungs, Lenalee can only imagine how much more pain Allen is in. One moment she was eating breakfast with her friends, the next she was fighting for oxygen. The tears stream down her face like hot magma as she smells nothing but burning.

After searching tirelessly through the fire and the smoldering wood and marble, she is suddenly yanked back by the elbow. Some unknown Finder shrieks in her ear that it's too dangerous. She screams back that nothing is too dangerous. For Allen. She is thrown back from the Men's Halls, and she collapses from exhaustion and something much more heavier. Her hands can't stop shaking and she wonders if she's breathing for a moment. It takes a moment to realize she was.

Suddenly, a pair of warm, gentle arms wrap around her waist. They were soft and feminine, thin and beautiful. She feels a face nuzzle the side of her neck and she instantly knows who the mysterious pair of arms are. She turns to meet her captor.

"Allen!" she exclaims happily before groaning with exasperation, "You did this, didn't you?"

The boy turned girl stinks of smoke and burned things. But she was safe. She wasn't hurt. Lenalee pulls the younger girl into a warm hug, pressing her body tightly against hers. A sigh of relief coursed through Lenalee's veins before she managed to let it through her lips. On their knees, surrounded by screaming people with searing flames and desperate smoke as their companions, Lenalee feels okay. They were okay.

Allen looks up at her from her hug. It seems the gender-bending had shortened Allen back to when they had first met, when Lenalee had a good three inches on her. Those curious, hallucinogenic eyes sparkled from the embers behind them. They shine like Broadway with streets paved with gold.

"Yes." Allen nods slowly, as if _she _was the one tripping balls right now, "I did it."

"Why?" Lenalee buries her face into the top of Allen's hair. It smelled odd like fruits and smoke. They shouldn't be mixing, but there they were.

"The Ghost of Christmas Past told me to do it." Allen says it like it makes sense, "He has bathrobes of Peruvian silk and ivory."

The look on his face was so clean, so simple. It was just _there_. Lenalee can't describe the feelings in her chest right now. But Allen's face just melted her heart some more.

Lenalee lets out a bastard child of a sob and a laugh. She holds the girl gently, rocking a little back and forth. "Okay. Okay, Allen." She accepts it, because why not? "Okay, Allen, okay." All she can do is repeat those simple words. They were okay.

Allen nods a little dumbly, still inhibited by whatever drug he'd taken. "Did it for the greater good. Capisce?" She says it like she's confused.

"Yeah, Allen." Lenalee tinkles out a little laugh, winning a cute little smile from the girl wrapped in her arms, "Capisce."

* * *

**A/N: **Tell me what you thought of that chapter, capisce? Capisce? (pronounced ka-peesh)


End file.
